


Bittersweet

by Giraffegon



Series: Adventures in Elf/Human romance [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cuddling & Snuggling, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fantasy, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, LITERALLY, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Original Character(s), Original Universe, Regret, Sleeping Together, please break these two up, the worst couple ever created back at it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giraffegon/pseuds/Giraffegon
Summary: After Rhaekal's actions, Thessalian has a hard time coming to terms with what exactly happened-- and how he feels about the human in the aftermath.He decides it's probably for the best.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Thessalian/Rhaekal
Series: Adventures in Elf/Human romance [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545268
Kudos: 6





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> the direct sequel to the nsfw tattoo one. what thessalian was going to say before he fell asleep is up to you...

The hot bath was soothing on his punished muscles, but there was only so much soothing water could do. As he looked in the mirror, he cringed. The runes that carved their way across his body still glowed a dim violet: on his cheeks, arms, chest, legs… He shivered. Rhaekal had truly done what he had set out to do-- to possess every part of his lover. He tentatively ran a light touch along the markings on his chest, the strange, smooth sensation at odds with his skin. It felt like touching porcelain. Keeping his lips in a tight line was growing difficult. Tears welled in his eyes, his emotions wailing as they felt the intrusion, the immense betrayal of what the man had done during such a pure moment. The man he loved. Despite himself-- despite the act, the evidence that stood so clear on his body-- Thessalian could not find it within himself to hate Rhaekal or even stay bitter about what he had done. Thessalian let his eyes fall shut, transparent tears falling lazily down his reddened cheeks, at odds with the rapid beating of his heart. 

His weakness made him nauseous.

Running a hand through still damp hair, he exhaled shakily and opened his eyes, casting his gaze anywhere but the traitorous mirror. The exhaustion he felt made his very bones ache-- though his people never aged, not really, those who lived to truly advanced year did begin to feel the weight of their memory and regrets upon them, weakening them, as perhaps a mortal felt when they grew into their twilight years: of course, for a mortal, that was an inevitability. All that could fully reach his mind was the sight of his bed. Comforting and warm. It would make any lingering emotional turmoil take flight, he figured, or at least numb it. Yet as he sat down, the pain of Rhaekal’s cruelty truly took hold, the careless plundering of the elf’s body. He winced at the dull ache in his lower half-- but endured. He always did.

He let out a rueful laugh, containing a final sob. He always endured.

Easing himself, stomach up, onto the bed, he hummed as he brought the thick furs over himself. The comfort was immediate and pleasant. He stretched out his limbs, enjoying the weight of the furs on top of him and the heat they provided, purring in delight at the sensation-- everything felt right, the easy silence in the room disturbed only by his soft breaths.

Until the knock.

It was a series of knocks, to be precise. Hard, heavy-handed things that made Thessalian flinch and immediately sit up, disregarding the pain of his backside as he stared at the door, eyes narrowed and prepared for anything. He chose to remain in his bed instead of answering-- if it was not urgent, the visitor would, hopefully, leave without another attempt. The next knock came only a few minutes and the strength, speed, and timbre of each strike left no doubt as to the identity of his caller. 

Rhaekal.

A new wave of weariness filled him, but he knew better than to leave Rhaekal knocking. Why he would come back after what he did was unknown to the elf; when it came to matters of war, Rhaekal did enjoy a good gloat-- but in these… personal matters, he generally left well enough alone after he noticed there would be some kind of fallout. He hated people telling him off, especially when he knew he was in the wrong. A scowl brewing, he shakily pushed himself up and, after haphazardly pulling a silken robe over himself for dignity’s sake, opened his door.

Thessalian stared gruffly at the man. Rhaekal’s red eye was, of course, soft, and watery, looking down as his lip quivered slightly. Thessalian stared at him.

“ **What**.”  
  
Rhaekal baulked at the brusque reply but cleared his throat. “I… _well_ , I…” He bit his lip. “I... came here to… see if you-- you were... all right. After-- _you know_ …” His words tapered off, his mouth agape at the look that Thessalian affixed him with.  
  
“I am _perfectly_ fine,” the elf grunted. Upon seeing Rhaekal’s wounded expression, he sighed deeply. “I don’t... _despise_ you, you sensitive, _sensitive_ bastard.” He knit his brows together, his fingers aching to slam the door in the man’s face-- instead, he merely shook his head. “I am sure you can understand that I would be a _little_ less than pleased with you, however; was there anything else you wanted?” Rhaekal crossed his arms, staring imploringly into the elf’s eyes.

“May I… may I come in?”  
  
  


Thessalian gave him a deadpan look.

“If you must...” He stepped aside to allow the taller man through; Rhaekal quickly took the opportunity before Thessalian took it from him. He didn’t even give the room a once over, taking off his clothes at once. Thessalian sputtered at the sight, clearing his throat.

“I _said_ you could come in. Nothing more than that!” He frowned deeply at the innocent look on Rhaekal’s face-- the juxtaposition would’ve been amusing… if it weren’t for the circumstance. “If you believe you’ll be getting anything _, anything_ out of me after what you did, well, you must be--”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
Thessalian narrowed his eyes as Rhaekal turned away slightly, scowling. He continued undressing as he spoke. “I was just wondering if you’d let me lie with you.” After a brief pause, he added: “Just to sleep.” Thessalian scrunched up his nose.

“You were wondering…” upon seeing Rhaekal’s attentive nod, he continued. “So, you just decided to get undressed immediately?” The man opened his mouth, but Thessalian’s withering glare silenced him. “I don’t care. I... just want to go to sleep-- whether or not _you’re_ there is secondary.” Grumbling to himself about inconsiderate humans and foolish emperors, he brushed past Rhaekal to take his place in the grand bed. He slipped off his robe only just before he got into bed, shuddering as he felt Rhaekal’s eyes roam over the markings on his back-- markings _he_ put there. Although he knew that, deep, _deep_ down, Rhaekal did indeed feel guilty about what he did, there was something about the appreciative gaze over his flesh that chilled Thessalian to the bone. Taking a clipped breath, he covered himself in blankets, enjoying the suffocating sensation as his agonised muscles languished in the heat. He closed his eyes, only twitching as he felt a dip in the bed beside him. They were separated in the massive bed-- the only reason Thessalian could even tell Rhaekal hadn’t just gotten up and left was the slow and heavy puff of his breath and his weight on the mattress. The elf huffed and squirmed. 

The covers were suddenly not warm enough for his tastes. 

He glanced to his side, sneaking a peek at the catatonic man beside him. Rhaekal wasn’t asleep. He was staring aimlessly at the ceiling, his mouth closed tightly.

Turning over onto his side was a clear invitation for Rhaekal to get closer, and yet, he remained on his back.

Clearing his throat elicited no response. 

Shuffling and sighing a thousand times didn’t seem to get his attention, either. 

“Rhaekal,” he snapped. He felt the man’s head turn at that. 

_Finally_. 

“Get over here and hold me. _Close_ , damnit!” Flushing horribly, he waited to see whether Rhaekal would obey his command. To his immense surprise, it was barely a second before Rhaekal was holding onto his middle, cradling him from behind with his face buried within soft blonde strands. He felt the man inhale deeply and smiled despite himself, pressing back against the strong body behind him. Rhaekal took a shaky breath.

“Thess, I’m… _sorry_.”

Thessalian shut his eyes and hummed. The soft bedding and the rhythmic rise and fall of Rhaekal’s chest created the perfect soporific effect, and Thessalian soon felt his consciousness slipping away. “Mh, _Rhaekal_ , it’s... alright,” he slurred. “I like you cuddling up to me… doesn’t matter… I _don’t_...” 

  
Rhaekal began to respond, but the loud snores coming from the blonde told him his words fell on deaf, pointed ears. He snorted in amusement, giving Thessalian a firm kiss to the neck. Guilt and happiness ate him from the inside out, competing for space in his heart and mind. The shame of the pleasure he felt when he looked at those tattoos was intense-- but the ecstasy of knowing that he finally, _finally_ owned his lover could match it. His mind whirred, but the calm breathing and the sweet smell of Thessalian’s hair slowed it until it was still, and the human followed him into sleep.


End file.
